


Entwitterment

by Girlobsessed21



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drifting Apart, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlobsessed21/pseuds/Girlobsessed21
Summary: Clarke struggles to cope with the fact that they can't have a baby and loses herself in other endeavors.





	Entwitterment

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a strong moral lesson. It's inspired by my previous fic which I still promise to write an epilogue to.

There is wryness to sitting with your head on the steering wheel outside a restaurant an hour’s drive from home. Clarke’s ingrained morals flash a red warning light, except a certain sense of selfishness opens the door. _What are you doing? _She scolds, raking a hand through her styled blonde curls. Harper would be less than pleased if she knew Clarke just scrambled her masterpiece, even more so if Clarke was forthcoming about the occasion.

Curiosity abides her inside. It’s a beautiful place, large open windows, tables dressed in black and white with candlelit lint. Waitrons sporting spotless penguin suits and the hostess couldn’t have a more perfect smile if she tried. “Good evening, welcome to Aleandro’s, do you have a reservation?”

The ring on her left-hand burns with animosity, ignoring it, she smiles in return. “Yes, under Griffin.” Dread lurches in her stomach as the stunning woman escorts her to the table. She’s doing this, partaking in something she has judged others for countless times before. Although she has been emotionally cheating for months, doing it in person feels more tangible and callous.

It all started with her frenzied need for a child. Three years, tons of money and one miscarriage later, she’s about to embark on an enigmatic derangement. While Bellamy threw himself into work, she took on new projects to cope, which ultimately led her here, to the threshold of adultery.

**Three months ago**

They go through the motions. All that’s expected of a married couple, yet there’s no intensity behind their actions. In fact, everything’s cold, the food, the conversation, and the intimacy. A burning desire for each other has been replaced with routine cheek kisses and “how was your day’s?”

“Can you pass the salt, love?” Bellamy asks and Clarke’s reminded of the Mr. and Mrs. Smith scene.

Feigning happiness, she hands him the salt. “Anything happen today?”

“We got a new prospect. I’m heading there on Thursday to close the deal. How ‘bout you?”

“Nothing much, kids being kids, as usual,” she says blandly and focuses on her food to hide the giddiness that’s erupted with the thought of him being gone. Luckily, they cut down on the agonizing small-talk after that.

When Clarke clears the plates, Bellamy stops her. She’s almost startled by the foreign touch. There’s a sadness in the amber of his eyes, slight wrinkles she hasn’t noticed before, yet he’s still as handsome as the day they met. “Can we go away for a weekend? Just the two of us.”

The gesture all but chokes her, it’s a lifeline or an SOS. Faulting him for their inability to fall pregnant is unfair, though easier than blaming herself. He’s given her everything except the one thing she yearns for with reckless fervor. “We’ll see. I have a lot of artwork to grade and Harper’s baby shower is next week.”

Nodding, he says, “Need some help with the dishes?”

“No, I’m good, but thanks.” With that, she turns to escape. The sooner she falls into her chores, the sooner he’ll lose himself in work and ignore her.

Later, they both slip into bed with a book and the mandatory goodnight peck. She waits until Bellamy’s breathing evens out before skidding to the study for her new venture. Sure, she still loves teaching but those kids only remind her of the one thing she has been denied.

What started out as a way to sell her freelance graphic design services turned into a marketing blog with quite the amount of followers. Though Clarke never thought she would thrive in the world of e-commerce, she rather enjoyed learning about social media and backlinks. She’s not a connoisseur just yet, nonetheless, she shares her learning experience and has even made some money.

Without hesitation, she finds the draft: Panorama of SEO. Unable to shed the art teacher’s skin, she compares Google and all its counterparts to the creation of a perfect landscape. From the outline and coherent composition to romanticism, shadowing, and fine detail. For a rookie, the article is well-thought-out, unambiguous with professional hyperlinks.

Once it’s posted, she crawls back into bed almost drunk with the day-to-day rotation. Bellamy pulls her closer to him, she lies with her back to his front and feels repulsed by the proximity. His body emanates a warmth which used to soothe and now suffocates her.

The next day passes in the same fashion, and Clarke’s eager for Bellamy to leave on his trip doubles with each minute in his presence. That night when she opens her laptop, eight comments and 51 likes pertaining to the latest article await her. But one stands out.

**KBLA**: I’ve had my business for nearly ten years and never have I seen the online industry with such clarity as you describe it. Your passion for both subjects shines through. Keep going, I’m hungry for more. Just followed your blog and Twitter.

It’s encouraging, yet she can’t help but feel slightly bashful with her lack of experience. Attempting to build her cartel, she responds to all the comments with care, especially the one from KBLA.

**Marketingartity**: Thank you. I appreciate the encouragement. Still learning though.

In the days that follow, she learns KBLA has a blog of his own on literature. Said person could be male or female, though based on his actions, she leans toward the former. From thereon out, he comments on and shares all of her tweets. All his feedback is personal and uplifting in a way that inspires new confidence. Not just with her own, he’s the social media version of a Casanova.

When Bellamy leaves, Clarke indulges in a world of ones and zeroes from the moment she returns home till sleep overcomes her. To return the favor, she shares all of KBLA’s content as well until her message screen lights up late Saturday night with a new DM.

**@KBLA**: Have you ever considered writing a book?

**@marketingartity**: You mean based on my blog?

**@KBLA**: Absolutely, I’ve seen very little people gain the interest and following that you have in such a short time. You are a remarkable woman? Sorry for the assumption. Your zealous style of expression led me to believe you are female.

**@marketingartity**: I am indeed female. And no, I’ve never considered writing a book.

**@KBLA**: I figured, female hearts tend to bleed into their writing. It’s meant as a compliment.

Clarke can’t help but smile. This person who she’s only spoken to via a laptop for the last five days has provoked more cheerfulness from her than anything else in the past year. Mr. Casanova seems to lionize her as much as she does him. Awkwardly, the Skype ringtone intersects her joyous moment.

As she answers, Bellamy removes his glasses, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, how are you?”

“Just tired. It’s good news though, they signed with us and I have a good feeling about this.”

“Good, that’s good.” Clarke bites into her thumbnail having not much to add.

“So, what have you been up to? Any up-and-coming artists?” He’s trying so hard to engage her in anything but even his face reminds her of what she can’t have.

“No, nothing great so far.” And then there’s silence.

“We’ve gotta fix this, Clarke.” His voice comes deep and urgent. “You can’t even speak to me for two minutes. Where are you sneaking off to every night?”

“I can’t sleep, so I work on my lesson plans and stuff.”

“Sweetheart.” Bellamy runs a hand over his face. “We can’t go on like this. We can try another round of IVF; if it doesn’t work, we adopt. Whatever you need, I just wanna see you happy again.”

“I, uh, I just need some time and space.”

With a slight shake of his head, he says, “I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me, do you know how much I love you?”

_But do I still love you? _“What do you want from me? Therapy?” Counselling wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Yes, that’s something. I’ll make an appointment.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He nods. “I can see you’re eager to get back to work. I miss you.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

Once the call ends, she responds to KBLA.

**@marketingartity**: I have no background in literature. Would you help?

**@KBLA**: It would be an absolute pleasure. You could benefit from some editing and streamlining, but you’re a natural.

And that was the start of an online friendship and the premise of a book, currently titled the Mona Lisa of marketing. As agreed, she goes to couples therapy with her husband. After a few sessions and no progress, he loses interest as well and lets her be. She badly wants to share her endeavors with someone, only now it seems he has exited the stage. He works longer hours, goes away on business more often and tries to recruit international clients. All while she bares her soul to the pages of her story.

Clarke’s heart aches when he stops trying, even though it’s her fault for deserting him. Blaming him for something he had no hand in. While he pushed, there was always a slither of hope, now even the seed of recovery has been demolished. Pushing the most important person from her mind, she works with her new editor on becoming a published author.

**@KBLA**: I’ve read the last chapter and it would seem that you’re off your game, I won’t implore but if you want to talk about it, I can help.

Even though it’s an insult, Clarke laughs at how easily this person seems to read her.

**@marketingartity**: Are you a shrink too? What’s wrong with the chapter?

**@KBLA**: Not quite but I used to be a bartender. So, you could say I am a shrink, all bartenders walk out with a degree in psychology. Now, about the chapter, it lacks depth and layers, almost like something’s holding you back from your strong individuality.

**@marketingartity**: I don’t feel like talking about it but I’m about five minutes away from a divorce.

**@KBLA**: Oh, didn’t know you’re married.

**@marketingartity**: Too bad, I almost thought you knew everything.

**@KBLA**: A little secret, I’m a bullshitter. Full disclosure, I’m bummed you’re married. I wanted to ask you out. Sorry if that’s too much info.

At first, she lets it slide but the flirting increases each day - from both of them. She’s heard a hundred stories of online stalkers, yet this is different. He has a strong online presence; he’s smart and they have a connection. _Said every victim ever. _They never stray from the safe zone, but there’s something special. The frequency of their chats increases and he somehow aids her to back to a congruent state of normalcy.

That is until he finally asks to meet. Their profiles show they’re from the same area, but being weary, hesitant and married, she pushes it off. Up to the point where she can no longer contain her own curiosity and agrees. She makes the reservation and sends him the details including the place, time and a description of her long blonde hair, blue eyes and the navy dress she plans to wear.

With a perfectly manicured nail between her teeth, she awaits his arrival. From her intimate table in the far back corner, she has no view of the door. Looking at the menu, she takes a deep breath until a familiar voice pulls her from her reverie. “Clarke?”

When she looks up, her husband wears a slight grinning frown. “Did you know?” she asks.

“I had my suspicions when you made the reservation under your maiden name.”

“I should’ve known, no one gets me like you do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, sweetheart?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Touché.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would really appreciate some constructive feedback on this story. Thank you for reading. As always you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/girlobsessed21) or [Tumblr](https://girlobsessed21.tumblr.com/)


End file.
